What do we know about Miss Morgan? Riley asked, letting his gaze wander over the manicured lawn and abundant flowers. There was nothing unusual or even rundown about the house, and yet a prickle of anxiety ate away at him.
Not much. Shes clean. Tony inspected her file. Just moves around a lot.
For her sake, shed better be clean. Riley tried to squeeze a character type from the place she lived, but it was nondescript, a typical modest home in the lush Garden District a few blocks down from the opulent mansions that saw a steady stream of tourist traffic.
Concern filled Tonys large Italian eyes. You shouldnt go in there. You shouldnt even be here now. Go home and be with your family. With Mac.
Riley fought the guilt and weariness that threatened to overcome him at the mention of his brothers name. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of his sister-in-law propped against the wall, her throat slit from ear to ear, was painfully etched in his mind. I cant.
Tonys dark eyes intensified. You cant blame yourself. It wasnt your fault.
Wasnt it? Michelle was taking this case too personally.
You couldnt
know shed go undercover and try to flush the night stalker out alone.
I knew some sicko was slicing up prostitutes in the Quarter. I should have watched her better. I should have been more inwardly, he cringed as he said the word protective.
She would have been insulted, and she would have thought you doubted her abilities as a cop. You know that. You also know if you go in there and confront Miss Morgan, you could blow this investigation.
Youre right. But Tony, Michelle was family. A lump the size of a crawdad caught in his throat. I should have done something. If only
Michelle was a strong-willed cop. She did what she wanted and damn the consequences. You knew that about her, and so did Mac.
Riley scraped a thumb across his unshaven jaw. Im going to track this guy down. I wont let him get by with this. And I wont blow this case. His gaze drifted over the roses, blooming in a riot of color lining the walk. Ill turn on Mr. Charm. Ill be on my best behavior. I just need to see for myself how she responds when I show her the locket.
Tony closed the file and slid it between the seats. All right, he relented. Two of us will spook her. Ive been up all night tracking down Miss Morgan and Im in desperate need of some caffeine. Youre on your own. Ill be back in fifteen minutes. Dont blow it!
Wouldnt dream of it. Riley opened the car door. Ill find out exactly what she knows about Michelles death. Whatever it takes.
Thats what Im afraid of, Tony muttered, and pulled away from the curb.
Although it was only 9:00 a.m., the hot August heat was already intolerable. Riley walked toward the front door, pulling at his shirt collar, lifting the fabric from his skin. He rapped on the door, waited a minute, then rapped again.
He stood on the front stoop listening to the incessant buzz of bees surrounding a gardenia bush, growing hotter and more impatient with each passing second. As he started to knock again, a shape moved behind the front doors frosted glass.
Finally, he muttered under his breath.
The door opened. His wide Mr. Charm smile froze on his face and his heart stopped at the sight of the woman in the white terry robe. A mass of golden curls framed her face, falling in reckless abandon around her shoulders. Blue eyes, tired and disoriented, held a dim sparkle deep within their depths.
Michelle.
Is there something I can do for you? she asked, clutching the opening of her robe.
Her sultry voice held no hint of Michelles Southern accent. Otherwise, she looked enough like Michelle to halt the blood in his veins. Devra Morgan? he asked and wasnt at all surprised by the catch in his voice.
Yes?
He couldnt help staring. She clutched the robe tighter. Im Detective MacIntyre with the NOPD. Is this yours? He held up the plastic bag containing the golden locket in one hand, and his badge in the other.
Her eyes widened, turning a deep cobalt blue and becoming even more beautiful than hed previously thought. Wh-where did you find it? she asked.
May I come in?
Yes, of course. Im sorry. Come in. She stood back, allowing him to step into the entryway. He followed her into a darkened living room. The furniture was sparse with no plants, no pictures, not much of anything personal or otherwise.
Please, have a seat, she offered, and gestured toward a small table in front of the window. As he sat, she reached behind him and pulled the cord that lifted thick wooden blinds. Sunshine filtered through the slats, setting fire to the gold in her hair.
She smelled faintly of vanilla and he caught himself inhaling deeper. He couldnt stop staring at her hair falling in long lazy curls down the middle of her back. He was sorely tempted to touch it, to run his fingers through the delicate strands.
She looked down at him, catching his gaze. Her eyes flickered with a myriad of colors and emotions. There was a longing in her expressionsomething she wanted or neededbut it quickly disappeared and her expression turned wary. She ran a hand through her hair. Would you excuse me for a minute, please?